*

I think I

figured it out

after all.

I am the comfort

the warmth

the intimate familiarity

without all the

troubling

questions.

Quiet

always

dis

a

ppear

ing

*

How do I say to you.

You can't appear
and disappear
taking advantage of my weakness for you
setting me on edge
every now and then

and not pulling me back.

You were the one to stray
cutting ropes
saying

Better stop now
than turn into
two people that just fuck.

*

At the very least
I seem to never be
surprised

by silence.

He's back in town

All she said was this.
I detested the way
my heart rate sped up
and I started trembling
and felt nauseous
with anxiety.

(Not) Unexpetedly enough
I turned around and saw him at some point,
laughing he said
"What goes around comes  around"
(in greek it sounds like
"everything is paid here"

the language is richer

more
apt).

"Come here",
dropping his stuff on the floor.
I went in for the hug
in an instant,
unsure whether that's what he meant.
"When will I see you?"

He always asks
and I answer,
more to humour him,
I know no meeting will be truly set.

(Except for the bad ones,
we never fail to meet for those.)

Sometimes I think
I'll recognise you anywhere

and see you everywhere
in stangers
and refections

but to be fair
I doubt we'll share again a
somewhere

"Sorry to come back to this
but
from a psychological point of view
it seems that
you are afraid
of something."

I'm afraid
of everything
and nothing.

Washed out

  I try to explain the emptiness to him, sitting in a small cafe, scribbling all the time. I try to explain the absence of feeling, that impassive moment when you observe and are aware of your every move but all is done in a mechanical way, there is no active motive behind them, just keep going, it seems to be working so far.

  He doesn't seem to get it, to grasp the idea appears to be beyond him. How can one not feel? he asks. Is it boredom then? I struggle to find the words to make it clearer, I like talking to him, more than I like kissing him, my side is turning more and more into a platonic emotion. No, I say, in boredom there is something to do and you don't want to or there is nothing to do. The situation I am talking about is something else, you know there is something you need to do and you do it, except you're not really present in the moment.

  And where are you then?

  Well, fuck if I know.

  I don't know why he's even going along with it so far, seems merely content to be in my company and kiss me, it is in a way the purest way I've experienced anyone.

  It's just that pure is not enough.

  In life, sooner or later, you have to decide whether you like it dirty. 

  And a little bit of dirt never harmed no one.

Excitement

I miss
the excitement
you gave me.

The
-I can't feel
my knees
or legs
or anything anymore-
kind of excitement.
The only real thing
to hold onto
the erratic beating
of the heart
a low buzz
in my ears.

I've stopped
looking for it.
I stopped looking for you.

It's been years now.